In Which Natasha Compliments Steve's Ass
by coulsonbaby
Summary: Tony Stark was not in love with Steve, no matter what Natasha implies. But then again... Tony/Steve, Older-Sister-Complex!Natasha, Light Slash, Humour, Oxen


Tony Stark was not falling for Steve Rogers. He did not have dreams about kissing him, or holding him, or touching him, and he never got distracted from important work in the process of daydreaming about him. Tony most certainly was not attracted to the tall, blonde, muscular man who was built like a brick wall and had nerves of steel, and he definitely did not melt when Steve smiled and those blue eyes of his literally sparkled- as in someone must have poured glitter in them or something. It was that intense. Tony never felt hopelessly idiotic when Steve would say something endearingly moral and honest without even realising how beautiful he wasn't to Tony, because Tony Stark was not falling for Steve Rogers. No possible way.

And that is because Tony Stark is always honest with himself. So if he had been falling for America's Hero, then he would have definitely known, and since he didn't it meant he wasn't. Simple as that.

But that is also why it made so little sense when Tony's chest would start hurting when in near proximity of the man. He had checked over the arc reactor dozens of times, and he was certain that he didn't have any cracked or broken ribs. He had even asked JARVIS what the symptoms of a heart attack were, but apparently nothing fit. So the solution Tony came up with was to completely avoid the man he wasn't falling for because it wasn't like he cared or anything, he was just another one of the guys that he shouldn't care more or less about than any of the others.

The problem was, however, that Steve liked to spend time with everyone and make everyone spend time together and because he was avoiding Steve and Steve was with everyone, Tony was avoiding everyone.

And that is why Tony had not left his room in five days.

Tony was not exactly sure how the other Avengers were taking his seclusion, and he was just about to ask JARVIS when his phone rang. Of course, it was Pepper, and he hit ignore and he wasn't exactly sure why because he didn't have any reason to ignore her and it was probably something really important that had to do with the company. But he had already pushed the button, and apparently while he was thinking about it, he had subconsciously removed the battery and shut the device in a drawer.

And then Tony forgot to ask JARVIS anything and he got out of bed and got dressed and went to his desk and mostly did work, and kind of sent e-mails, and maybe read files. And when he was done, he definitely drank a lot and then went to bed but couldn't sleep because he wasn't usually good at that and it was all kind of a daze and blur as nighttime hours passed and the alcohol wore off- that, however, all faded in an instant when he heard a sound that shouldn't have happened. It was a very small, very minute, metallic clang. Coming from his air vent. After a moment, he quietly called out. "Clint," he said, voice dripping with venom, "if that's you, you will be dead before morning."

The room was still and dark, and all of Tony's senses were alert. A moment later he heard a soft thud as someone suddenly appeared across the room. Sitting up in bed, he stared at the dark figure. It stalked elegantly over to him and clapped it's hands twice, the bright light flashing in his eye's and making him blink rapidly.

"JARVIS wouldn't let me in."

"Hmph. So you decided it was a good idea to climb through the air vents. You didn't think that I possibly might have _wanted_ to be left alone?"

Natasha was standing next to the bed, arms crossed, looking down on him with a- could that be a worried expression? "Tony. They- we- were worried about you."

"Yeah right. 'Worry' about someone who needs to be worried about." Tony slipped out of bed on the side opposite where Natasha was standing, tugging on the black tank top lying on the floor and running fingers through his hair before turning back to her. "So what do you want?"

Natasha sighed and moved swiftly around the bed to stand in front of Tony. "I don't even know why I came," she growled. "You're stubborn as a mule and you won't let anyone help you, ever. Especially when you need it. Obviously I came to talk to you and help you figure out what was wrong, but you're too busy being a conceited prick to realise that people actually care about you and that you hurt them almost as much as you hurt yourself when you do these things. You're too busy wallowing in self-pity to look around you and see the effect you have on others. You're selfish, arrogant, and rude, and I went through a lot of trouble getting in here so you damn well better talk to me."

That was the fourth time in his life Tony had ever been rendered speechless, and the sixth that his jaw dropped. It took a few moments of staring into Natasha's flaming yet concerned eyes for him to be able to say, in almost a whisper, "Nothing. I'm alright."

Her face softened as she placed a hand lightly on his shoulder. "Except I know that "alright" is Tony Stark speech for "actually not alright at all." Of all the people on the team, you can talk to me. That's why I came, because everybody- even you- needs a confidante."

"A confidante," Tony mused, turning his back to Natasha and making his way over to the sofa, stretching out on it. "JARVIS would make a good confidante."

"He's a computer."

"Artificial Intelligence."

"Right." She sat down in the armchair across from Tony. "I mean it, Tony. We care."

"It's nothing," he said. Then, almost as an afterthought, "It's stupid."

"Can't be that stupid for the great Tony Stark to have such a reaction to it."

Tony looked at her and raised an eyebrow, "have you met him? He can be pretty stupid sometimes."

Natasha shook her head. "Nah." Was that the hint of a smile? Impossible. "He's not stupid, he's just an idiot."

"It's not nice to talk about people behind their backs."

"Shut it." Tony grinned. Who would have thought Natasha of all people could cheer him up? She had even almost smiled, something he had figured against the law or something.

After a moment of silence he looked back at her to see her giving him her "well are you going to talk or not?" face, arched eyebrow and everything. Tony sighed and conceded- this, after all, was the Black Widow. She had the interrogation techniques to take out an entire government. In fact, she had. Twice. "Look, it's just a thing and I don't want to be around certain people. That's all."

"What sort of a thing?" He swore there was a mocking snicker in her voice.

"Just a thing. With a person. And I don't want to be around them."

"Steve?"

"What the hell?" Tony blurted out, jumping up. "How the hell did yo-" He paused for a moment and slowly sat back down on the sofa, burying his face in his hands. "Shit."

He didn't look at Natasha because he knew she would have that stupid smirk on her face, but he did look up at the ceiling for a moment. "It's nothing, just something stupid. You wouldn't understand."

"You also thought I wouldn't know you had a thing for Steve."

Tony's gaze locked onto the woman's across from him as he glared at her. "I do /not/ have a thing for Steve. I would know if I did, and I don't, so drop it."

She continued smirking though, and, after about a minute, spoke again. "He does have a pretty nice ass though."

"God, I know." Tony agreed, nodding, then froze. Slowly, he locked eyes with Natasha and her stupid smirking face. "Fuck. You," he growled slowly, deliberately.

"No," she said- and he swore that was a grin- shaking her head, "I believe it's Steve you want to fuck."

Tony growled and stood abruptly, storming towards the door. "Fuck off Natasha. I don't need your bitching." He had his hand on the doorknob, when-

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

He spun around and glared at her, "And why the hell _not_?" He hissed at her as she moved swiftly to his desk and brought something up on the screen, moving aside so he could see it.

It was the live security footage of the hallway just on the other side of that door. Six people were in that hallway, and the mood was solemn. Clint, sitting on the ground and playing solitaire; Pepper, leaning against the wall and in deep conversation with Coulson who was in a similar position; Thor and Bruce sitting next to the closed door, Thor looking as if in the middle of a narrative; and Steve- Steve who was pacing the length of the hallway with his arms folded behind his back, marching with that military air of his- looked so distraught, so stressed. Tony moved slowly across the room until he was standing next to Natasha, palms on the desk, head hung in shame. "How long have they been there?" He choked out, looking up at her with a pained expression.

Folding her arms over her chest, Natasha nodded at the screen. "Steve: Over three days." A sound that resembled a strangled sob escaped Tony's throat as she continued, "Pepper and Phil: In and out since Steve informed us you had shut yourself in. Have been here all day. Thor and Bruce: Since Steve told them. Clint: About the same time. I have had to make sure they eat. They won't leave until you come out, Tony. They're worried. Scared. They know how self-destructive you can be. Steve and Pepper are handling it the worse. Even Fury is stressed about this. Did you even realise this was going on?" Her voice was accusing, but also pitying.

Tony clung fiercely to the desk, his knuckles going white. He cursed himself, damned himself, and blamed himself for being a bastard. An arrogant fucking bastard. "God dammit, Natasha," he groaned quietly, "how could I-" he stopped and took a shaky breath, looking up at the screen. In seconds, he had it on fast-forward from the same time four days prior. He watched as people passed. Steve knocked. Left. Came back, knocked again. Left. Came back, knocked again. Called out- didn't he know Tony had soundproofed the room?- pounded fiercely, looked defeated. Left. Came back with Bruce. It was torture, watching the video, torture torture torture that he deserved. Then Natasha was there, then Coulson, and then Thor. Pepper. Clint. Coulson and Pepper coming and going, the Avengers sitting or standing or pacing, Steve looking completely broken. Natasha bringing them coffee or water or sandwiches. Natasha never stayed though. She came and went as infrequently as Pepper. They talked, too, a few times. Pepper only talked to Coulson and Natasha. God, Pepper… what was she thinking? She must have hated him by now, they all must have…

He ran his fingers through his hair, upset. "Talk to me," came the surprisingly soft voice, and the even more astonishingly gentle hand on his shoulder as he sunk into the desk chair.

"Look," Tony said hesitantly and unsteady, "I'm only telling this because… you knew, and because you will get it out of me eventually okay? And you're you, and probably know bigger secrets then Fury. So. That's all."

Tony closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He couldn't do this if he was looking at her, he just couldn't because he wasn't sure if he could do it regardless. "It started… Four months ago. We were hosting that Avengers Ball for the wealthy supporters and politicians, remember? And Steve told me he couldn't dance." Tony laughed lightly, opening his eyes and gazing at the ceiling. "So he asked me to teach him, and I obliged. And dammit, Natasha, he's so beautiful and he's a natural. And we were dancing, and he was smiling- that real one, where he doesn't show his teeth- and his eye's were shining, and he's so damn strong but so fucking gentle. And I kind of… well, the feelings I had been denying where confirmed. And since then, ever since then, I can't be near him." He placed a hand over his chest, where the arc reactor was, and looked Natasha in the eye. He could do this. "It _hurts_. It _hurts_ when I'm near him. I feel as if my heart stops, and my organs are failing and my lungs are collapsing and I'm choking all at once. And then I started having the dreams," he blinked slowly and took a few deep breaths, "and I couldn't, I just couldn't be around him anymore. I couldn't stand it. I was distracted, my productivity went down the drain, my self-confidence diminished. And he's always around _people_. _Always_. And the only way to stay away from him is to stay away from everyone and… and so I'm here."

Natasha was about to say something when he cut her off. "Do you have any idea how _good_ he is? He is so pure, so perfect. Not a bad bone in his body. And he's so beautiful and I don't deserve him and he shouldn't be stuck with me. He's worth more than that. So I just have to sit this out until passes then I can leave my room. That's all, I'm sorry."

"Oh my god, Tony," came Natasha's voice in an awed whisper. Her expression was honestly the most sincere emotion he had ever seen on a human being before. "Tony, you can't sit this out. It's not gonna pass."

"Sure it will," he rationalized, "it passed with Pepper, and all those other girls and then the two guys. As long as I don't let myself fall in love I'll be golden." Tony chuckled to himself and leaned back in the chair, swiveling it side to side a bit.

Natasha stared sadly at Tony for a moment before shaking her head slowly and taking a small step forward. "I think it's too late for that," she said softly.

Tony's eyes filled with fear as he froze before slowly, ever so slowly, rising and standing before Natasha, their noses just inches apart. "Don't say that," he said hoarsely, leaning forward menacingly as Natasha remained still as a statue, "don't ever fucking say that because it's not true. And even if it were, it wouldn't matter, because I don't deserve anybody. _Anybody_. And the longer I reflect on it, the more sure I become: no one falls in love with people like me- my mind is my curse, and I am destined to be alone. And that's that. Don't try to trick me into thinking otherwise, because it will only hurt me more in the end and no matter what you may think, I do not enjoy emotional despair. And then there's the fact that I don't, and I can't, because there's no possible fucking way that I am in love with Steve Rodgers."

Natasha was silent and unmoving for a full minute before she leaned forward and, very very quietly, whispered in Tony's ear, "What is his favourite movie?"

"Frankenstein," Tony said automatically, not seeing the relevance.

"Waist size?"

"Thirty-four inches, I don't see how this is-"

Natasha cut him off, "How does he like his eggs?"

"Over easy. But…"

"One more. Tell me, how many freckles does he have on his neck?" Her words were nothing more but a breath against his ear.

"Three." He answered without a second's hesitation.

"I'll be seeing you, Tony," she whispered, giving him a kiss on the cheek and moving past him, swift as the wind.

He remained standing as he was, and didn't look back as he heard the soft thud of the air vent's cover being replaced behind him.

For the rest of the night he watched the security footage. Pepper and Coulson eventually left, and everyone but Steve eventually fell asleep. Steve would pace, then sink to the floor and bury his face in his hands, then get up and start pacing again. And when Natasha showed up in the morning with a plate of toast and pop tarts and four mugs of coffee, when she looked pointedly into the camera, he couldn't take it anymore and shut down the program, returning to his bed and burying his face in his pillows.

He definitely didn't cry all day.

And then it was dusk and Natasha was standing next to his bed and yelling at him and he didn't know what for because he hadn't done anything and he told her this.

"_Exactly_!" She hissed at him, grabbing the blankets he had wrapped himself up in and tugging them violently so that he was thrown onto the floor on the opposite side of the bed and she stomped around and yanked him up and yelled at him some more but he wasn't listening because he didn't care and because she was right and he hated being wrong.

"Tony, just talk to him! He's not even speaking anymore, he just paces up and down the hall and he hasn't slept in two days and god dammit this is your fucking fault. You can't blame anyone but yourself for this."

"What do you want me to do!" Tony finally snapped. "You expect me to just walk out there? How the hell do you think that will go over, Natasha? Huh? Not fucking well, that's how. So what the _hell_ is it that you want me to do?"

And just like that, every ounce of hostility vanished from Natasha's face as she looked at him calmly. "Follow me."

And she was in the air vent- how the hell did she get in there so easily because Tony had to climb on top of a chair- and he followed her, the ventilation system slightly more spacious than he had imagined it to be. After a couple minutes, he saw her drop out at a point far ahead of him. He scurried to catch up, but by the time he had slipped out and landed face first on the floor of a hallway on a different level of the building, she was gone. He stood and looked around, running his fingers through his hair as he noticed he was standing directly in front of a closed door.

It couldn't have been a coincidence.

He took a step forward and turned the knob slowly as he entered cautiously into one of the buildings unused bedrooms. So he was on the guest floor.

And then he realised that he was not alone.

Across the room, the man who had been sitting on the edge of the bed rose slowly and looked at him. "Tony."

"Steve."

"How di- Natasha?"

"I think this is a set-up." Tony chuckled because he knew he was supposed to, even though he was not in a chuckling mood at all- not with the way his chest was hurting. He was more in a grimacing and running away mood, but knowing Natasha, she had probably made a deal with JARVIS and he knew that that door would be locked. "Look," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I… eh, I'm sorry."

There was a lot of space between them, at least ten feet, but it was close, too close. So it took every ounce of willpower in his body for Tony to refrain from stepping backwards as Steve approached him.

He stopped about two feet away and looked down at Tony, piercing blue eyes too much, too much. "Did you do something to be sorry for? Besides shutting yourself off for, oh, six days now?" Steve's tone was harsh and accusing and it made Tony's chest hurt even more- he knew he would be angry, he should be angry, but he didn't want him to be because it hurt.

"Look, Steve, I know. I know I know I know please just let me explain," Tony pleaded desperately. He didn't give a damn how anyone else reacted, but after his discussion with Natasha the night before, he had realised something very, very, important. And he needed to get this out and as long as Steve didn't hate him it would be okay.

Steve crossed his arms and took another step forward and Tony couldn't help thinking about how good he looked and how bad he himself probably did. "Fine," came the stern reply, "explain. And it better be good."

This Steve was so different than the distraught one in the hallway just the night before, so drastically different, and he was feeling so unsure of himself. But as much as he hated to admit it, Natasha knew her shit. "Look, Steve, I was avoiding you." He said, then after seeing the alarmed look in the other mans eye's, he frantically waved his arms in front of him, "No! Nonono, not like that. It's just. Um." Tony took a deep breath and wished he had a drink in his hand, "Remember the Avengers Ball? Well, it's just that you're a very good dancer."

Steve stared at him incredulously. "How does my dancing four months ago have anyt- oh." Steve realised suddenly what exactly he meant, and flushed bright red, his stern posterior becoming awkward and uncomfortable.

And Tony, Tony had this thing where he babbled. And he didn't stop, especially when he should. "And you're such a good leader, I mean it. You care, you really care, and most people don't, and that's really very beautiful. And that time you convinced me to buy all the ice cream from the ice cream truck because all the children wanted some? One of the sweetest things I have ever witnessed. And how brave you are, and strong in all senses of the word and goddamn Steve, you look so hot without a shirt on. It's just so hard to be near you and keep myself under control and Natasha thinks I'm in love with you an- oomph!"

Tony never got to finish what he was saying, because he was busy being forcibly pressed up against the wall and Steve's hand was bunched up in the collar of his shirt and holding him slightly off the ground and his gaze was so intense and they were so close, so close, if he just leaned forward and closed the gap…

"I love you Tony."

And he didn't get to respond because then Steve was kissing him and oh my god where did this come from? Their lips moved roughly together, in a feverish need to just be close, because what if this was just a dream? He had to make the most of it while it lasted. And then Steve licked his bottom lip and Tony opened his mouth and it was perfect and his back hurt from the force he was being held by but he didn't care because oh my god Steve. Tony didn't really know when his legs wrapped around Steve's waist- and since when was he lying beneath him on the bed?- but Steve's hands were sliding up under his shirt and Tony's fingers were tangled in Steve's hair and there were so many sensations everywhere and this was nothing like any of the girls he had been with. This was better. This was so, so, much better, because this was Steve and he loved Steve and he never got to love people and he would come to regret it later, he was sure, but just then it didn't matter. Nothing did. And when they pulled away from each other, they were gasping for air and gazing into each other's eyes and why was Steve so beautiful it wasn't fair.

After a minute they were both breathing normally again, Tony cracked a grin. "You took the words right out of my mouth," he murmured softly to the blond man. "But I was gonna say Steve, not Tony. I'm not that much of a narcissist."

Steve smiled down at Tony and placed a chaste kiss on his lips before pulling him up so they were sitting next to each other on the bed. "You know Steve, Natasha's not a bad wing woman." He leaned his head against Steve's shoulder and closed his eyes. "I'm really sorry."

"Don't be." Steve's hand was absently stroking Tony's hair as he pondered something. "Why… why didn't you say something sooner?"

"Because I love you," Tony said softly, feeling Steve's skin blush, "I didn't get to say that yet and I wanted to. Because I love you and I didn't want to admit it to myself because everyone I have ever loved has hurt me. So I figured I would just wait for it to go away. It didn't though, it just got worse and I got desperate so I ran away. No doubt am I a Stark." He sighed deeply, comfortable and happy and content.

"I'm just glad," Steve murmured, his skin still warm from blushing, "that this is… this."

Tony's eye's snapped open and he sat up. "Wait. Should we go tell them that I'm, you know, okay, and that we're…?"

The soldier shook his head, smiling. "No. You haven't slept in days and neither have I." He wrapped his arms around Tony and pulled him up to the pillows and under the blankets, "So we will tell them in the morning after you have rested."

Tony smiled and twisted his neck to kiss Steve on the cheek, "Thank-you," he mumbled drowsily, eyelids fluttering closed.

"Thank-_you_, Mr. Tony Stark."

And the two men drifted off into a gentle slumber.

Bruce stopped not-arguing-just-discussing with JAVIS when he heard the clicking of Natasha's steps in the hallway the following morning. "Did you find Steve?" He asked urgently, standing up and facing her. The physicist received only a curt nod in return before inquiring further. "And do you know where he is?"

Another nod.

"Okay, cool, great, glad to hear," Bruce mumbled sarcastically to himself, rolling his eyes and sitting back down.

Natasha moved towards Clint, whom was folding some very poor origami, and leaned down, whispering something in his ear. He dropped his project and cracked a grin, giving the other two a smug look.

"What is it that makes you look so triumphant, friend Clint?" Thor boomed, confused.

"Oh, nothing," he sang, still grinning.

Bruce looked equally confused, but did not speak. He had always been one for observation. "But, friend, I wish to know what it is that pleases you so that we may celebrate together."

"I don't think it'll be you who's celebrating." Clint continued to grin as he balled up his failed origami and tossed it across the hall, bouncing it off Bruce's forehead, who just looked up a him with a slightly amused look.

"I don't understand…" Thor looked as if he was hurting himself in trying to figure the situation out.

"I win!" Clint proclaimed, pumping a fist in the air.

"You… win? I was not aware we were playing a game."

Bruce seemed to contemplate something before turning his gaze up to the woman who was leaning silently against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. "Hey Natasha," he said slowly, "Where's Tony?"

"Scientist Bruce, are you not aware of the purpose of our vigil? The man of iron has secluded himself in his chambers." Natasha raised an eyebrow and smirked as Thor shared this information.

At Natasha's obvious implication, Bruce laughed and pulled out his wallet. "Damn," he said good-naturedly, "if they had held out just one more week." He shook his head wryly as he tossed a fifty in Clint's direction. "By the way," he said as an afterthought, turning back to Natasha, "how did you- right. Don't ask."

Natasha nodded her confirmations as Thor looked around in bewilderment. "I don't understand. What is this Midgardian tradition of throwing green paper at our friends, and who is this "they" you speak of?"

Clint smirked. "Tony and Steve have, how should I put it… Partaken in intimate dealings with one another."

Thor paused for a minute before bursting into deep echoing laughter. "Good for them, I shall go congratulate them now on their achievement!"

As the Asgardian went to stand up, Bruce placed a hand on his arm and shook his head. "How about you don't do that now big guy," he said, "besides, you still owe Clint 'two plump oxen and barrel of mead.'"

"Of course!" Thor looked apologetically at Clint, "I am sorry, friend, I will have your reward for you soon, I would not disgrace myself by not holding up my end of our barter."

Clint wore a look of worry an amusement as Thor marched down the hall, on a mission. "What am I gonna do with two plump oxen?"

Bruce shrugged as he stood and began to walk down the hall to his room. "Just don't involve me in it." He called back.

Clint looked hopefully up at Natasha who shook her head. "I'm not helping you get rid of the oxen Clint." And she, too, returned to her bedroom.

Clint, alone in the hallway, sighed and rubbed the back of his head. "Hey, JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir."

"Want an ox or two?"


End file.
